


Bespangle

by MontagueFuzzlepeck (orphan_account)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Modern AU, Other, Strong Language, mild mentions of self harm, mild talk of anxiety/panic attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MontagueFuzzlepeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know… what about a keyword? Like, if you start to feel stressed again, like you’re going to… like things are going to get bad again… you can text me or phone me or whatever and just use that word, and I’ll know and I can help"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bespangle

_Seriously panicking. Need your help. Sorry if inconvenient._

                 “’Ferre?”

                “Yeah, it’s just me, what’s going on?” Combeferre shut the door behind him quietly and stood behind Enjolras, putting his hands on his friend’s shoulders. Enjolras was at his desk, his head in his hands, shaking violently. Papers were strewn everywhere, and there were several empty coffee mugs on the floor next to them.

                “I… I just…”

                “It’s ok, I got your text. Worked yourself too hard, yeah?” Combeferre sighed, running a hand through his hair.

                “If I don’t get this work done in time, my entire life will turn to shit, ‘Ferre, and I can’t do it.” Enjolras had started to cry; the tears looked wrong on the face that was normally so stoic and composed- his eyes were red and puffy, and his lips were shaking slightly.

                “Yeah you can. You always do. But it doesn’t matter if you can’t.”

                “It does. If I can’t do this…” Enjolras broke down, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. He lifted his head for a second to wipe his eyes, and his shirt sleeve slipped down as he did so- Combeferre stifled a gasp as he saw glaring red scratches across his friend's wrist. They were clearly new, and not very deep at all, and as far as he knew Enjolras had never done this before, but it still worried him.

                “Enjolras. Listen to me.” Combeferre pulled his friend up and sat him on the bed.

                “Sorry. I know-”

                “E. Seriously. I know what your dad was like. I know you think your entire worth as a human being is based on your grades, but I promise you it isn’t. Whether you get a A* or an F, Les Amis still love you, especially me. OK?”

 

Enjolras tried to answer, but he was shaking too hard, his breath coming in pained gasps as he let Combeferre wrap his arms around him and rub soothing circles into his back.

* * *

 

                “Look... if this ever happens again, you’ll tell me, right?” Combeferre let go of Enjolras’ arm reluctantly as his friend pulled away to sit back at his desk in the tiny dorm room.

                “’Ferre, you know I can never bring myself to… I can’t admit these things.”

Combeferre looked at Enjolras for a moment, at his still slightly shaking hands and the dark bags under his eyes and the mountain of papers he’d already started shifting through.

                “You know… what about a keyword? Like, if you start to feel stressed again, like you’re going to… like things are going to get bad again… you can text me or phone me or whatever and just use that word, and I’ll know and I can help, even if helping just means taking over a meeting or something for you, yeah?” Combeferre moved from the bed to perch on the edge of Enjolras’ desk, and gently put a hand on his shoulder. “No one else will have to know, but… I need to know if you’re going to start panicking again.”

Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose, but relaxed slightly into Combeferre’s hand all the same.

                “Yeah. Yeah, I could do that.”

                “You choose the word.”

He thought for a moment. “It has to be something we don’t regularly use.”

                “So, for once, not patria then!” Combeferre smirked, and Enjolras smiled slightly too.

                “Bespangle.” Enjolras said it with such a straight face, Combeferre couldn’t help but laugh.

                “What?!”

                “To adorn with spangles, to dot or sprinkle with something brilliant or glittering.”

                “I know what it means, but…”

                “Well it’s not a word I regularly use, is it?” It was Enjolras’ turn to smirk.

 

                “Fair enough.”

* * *

 

                “Look, ‘ferre… I know I said I’d go to see the film with you guys, and I do want to, but… fuck.” Combeferre stood up quickly as Enjolras put down the phone, but let out the breath he’d been holding when he received a text a few seconds later.

_Bespangle._

He sent one back quickly.

_Course. I’ll tell the others you have a cold and don’t want to infect them. X_

He smiled when he received _thanks_ almost immediately, and texted Jehan to say he’d be late.

* * *

                “You didn’t need to come.”

                “If it was bad enough that you actually phoned me, yes I did.”


End file.
